I'll See You Again
by Regina L
Summary: Have Niles & Daphne loved before in a previous life, or have their families crossed paths earlier?


_I'll See You Again_

_by Regina _

_Timeframe:_  Sometime in the near future--perhaps the end of the eighth or the beginning of the ninth season.

_Rating:_  PG-13

_Disclaimer:_  Grub Street Productions owns the characters of Niles, Daphne, Frasier, Martin, & Roz, and no copyright infringement is intended by the writing of this story.  I do, however, assert my intellectual property rights in regards to the plot and any characters of my own invention.

_I'll see you again_

_Whenever spring breaks through again,_

_Time may lie heavy between,_

_But what has been _

_Is past forgetting. _

--"I'll See You Again," from Noel Coward's _Bitter Sweet_

            Rain splattered against the windowpanes of the small London brownstone.  The gloomy sky, full of scudding clouds, seemed to echo the mood of the pensive woman curled up in the window seat of the sitting room.  She stared at the trees in the neighboring square, ignoring the long mass of auburn hair falling across her face.

                A child's voice shattered her concentration.

            "Daphne!  Daphne, don't you wanna play with us?"

            Daphne Moon slowly unfolded herself from her perch, forcing a smile onto her lips as she patted the little girl's head.

            "I'll be along in a few minutes, Tabitha.  We'll play dollies then, with Aidan."

            "OK!"  Tabitha gave her a gap-toothed grin.  "Mummy said tea's ready, can dollies have some too?"

            "Of course they can."

            As Tabitha ran off in a flurry of pigtails, Daphne turned back to the window and sighed, her mind racing through memories of the past four months.  Four months—four months since she'd been deported from Seattle courtesy of her vengeful ex-fiancee, four months since she'd been forced back to her native land and exasperated family, four months since she'd been tearfully separated from the love of her life.

            Four months, in short, since her entire life careened out of control one more time.

Daphne buried her face in her hands, struggling to blot out that night at the Fox & Whistle five months ago when all her current troubles began to boil over.  She'd sweet-talked Niles into stopping by for a pint after a film, and they found themselves having a good time despite Annie's rapidly intoxicated state.  Niles left early because he was speaking at a conference first thing in the morning, leaving Daphne to happily imbibe a few more before going home.  He no sooner was out the door than she found the pub's nastiest lounge lizard, Edmund, hissing in her ear, "Your new boyfriend's nothing but a poncy fop--couldn't handle a real man, could ya, darlin'?"

            "Listen, you piece of pond scum, shut your bloody mouth or I'll do the job meself!"  Daphne's eyes blazed.

            A drunken Annie chose that moment to chirp, "Yeah, Edmund, that poncy fop is gettin' more than you are right now, isn't he?"

            "Rotten little bitches!"  Edmund grabbed Daphne's arm brutally as Daphne's other hand flashed up and caught him full in the mouth and Annie started screaming.  The next thing Daphne knew, chairs and fists were flying, the enraged barkeep had cleared the bar, and the police were arresting the entire population of the pub—including Daphne—and charging them with disorderly conduct.

            When the cops at the precinct learned she was Martin Crane's physical therapist, they sent her home immediately with a quiet warning to control her temper better in the future.  The next morning at the arraignment, she discovered to her relief that the prosecutor was happy to let her off with nothing but a small fine in exchange for a quick guilty plea.  She'd paid it with shaking hands and fled the courthouse, grateful she wouldn't have to mention anything to the Cranes—especially Niles—and convinced that was the end of the matter.

            _How was I suppose to know_, Daphne thought despairingly, _that any criminal conviction, even a fourth-degree misdemeanor, meant I could be deported?_

            But Donny knew, of course, good old Donny who had the heart of a snake underneath his nice guy exterior.  As soon as the courthouse grapevine's latest gossip about his ex-girlfriend reached his ears, he'd pounced on her like a lion on a gazelle, determined to claim the pound of flesh he'd been denied when the court dismissed his refiled lawsuit against her.  The quick demise of his hasty marriage had made Donny more than a little crazed as well.

                Before a stunned Daphne realized what was happening, she'd been swept up in a dizzying swirl of home visits, interviews, and hearings, climaxing in the order of deportation that even Seattle's best immigration attorney (hired by the angry and appalled Cranes) couldn't head off. Daphne shivered at the remembered venom in Donny's voice at the final hearing, leaning over a weeping Daphne as she tried to take in this turn of events.  He'd spat out, "Well, if I couldn't win one way, I've won another—and the best part is that you and your precious Niles get separated forever!"

            As her mind reeled, another memory invaded—her last night in Seattle.  Daphne saw herself huddled on Niles's fainting couch, tears pouring down her cheeks as an increasingly frantic Niles wrapped his arms around her and kissed her tears away with mounting passion as he swore he'd bring her back no matter what.  It didn't take long for any remaining nerviness he might have suffered from to vanish like smoke.  He'd scooped her up and carried her to his bedroom with a panache worthy of Cyrano, where he proceeded to make love to her in an overwhelming frenzy of love, lust and tenderness that left her sobbing for more.

            _After a night like that I ought to be sure of everything, especially Niles's love, but Mum always says men get bored as soon as they get what they want . . . and seven years of fantasies are almost impossible to live up to . . . _Despite her mordant thoughts, Daphne smiled slowly as she recalled Niles's voice, husky and honey-drenched, whispering over and over again, "_Je t'aime, ma belle, toujours . . ." A woman's quiet voice behind her brought her back to the present again._

            "The tea's getting cold, Daphne.  Please come have some—and thank God you've remembered something to smile about."

            Daphne turned and gave her old friend a slight smile that failed to mask her anxiety.  Irene had been her best friend from nursery school all the way to their A-levels.  Plump, blond, and pretty, she'd married a chemical engineer from Glasgow ten years ago, right before Daphne left for America.  She produced two lovely children while at the same time she acquired an equally lovely home in a gentrified area of Islington, thanks to Ian's promotions.  Daphne allowed herself a brief flash of envy at Irene's serene course in life before speaking.

            "I was thinking about Niles, actually."

            "No wonder you were smiling—he sounds wonderful.  Ian and I are looking forward to meeting him."  When Daphne didn't answer, Irene looked at her quizzically.  "You're not still fussed over everything, are you?"

            "Yes I am."  Daphne's shoulders slumped.  "He called me every single day, despite me mum answering the phone first most of the time, 'til three weeks ago."

            "You mean he didn't call about coming over?"  

            "No, he didn't—Dr. Crane, I mean Frasier, did eight days ago.  He told me I could come home now, that Niles was flying over to get me, and that Niles had a big surprise for me.  When I asked him what it was, he clammed up and said Niles didn't want him to say too much.  I guess Niles was stopping in New York overnight, because Frasier said he could call him there with any messages.  I told him to tell Niles I'd meet him here in London so we avoided me family, especially Mum.  I called you, came down right away after leaving the number on Dr.—Frasier's—answering machine, and haven't heard a bloody thing since then."  Daphne's shoulders slid down even farther.  "With the way me luck is running, Niles got so tired of the bloody divorce that he's thrown in the towel and gone back to that black-haired bitch just for an end to the pain.  Mel is a genius at making him miserable, and his freshly grown backbone may have collapsed without me being there to buck him up again."  She flinched at the raw pain in her own voice.

            "Oh, for God's sake, Daphne!  The poor man has been wrangling over a totally nasty divorce for close to a year for your sake, he's stood by you through thick and thin despite a supposedly soft backbone, hired attorneys for you, is coming over to bring you home, and has, by your account, offered you the sun, the moon and the stars.  What more do you want him to do to prove his devotion—crawl through broken glass until he's bleeding to death at your feet?"  Irene couldn't keep the exasperation out of her voice now.

            "Oh, Irene, I know how much Niles loves me—but I also know how much he loves his position in society, and his money too.  You aren't the one who had to go to social events with him and hear people whisper insults behind your back, things like 'Cockney tart,' 'English slut,' and worse.  Niles always told me he didn't care, that I was worth it, and that he'd make Mel pay for every rumor and insult she'd spread.  But it's been four months since he's seen me, and he may have decided that he needs a higher-class woman after all, somebody he doesn't have to always defend and protect when it comes to his so-called friends.  And Mel may get a huge chunk of his money after all, so he could think that matters more too, especially after the brawl he fought to get it the first time.  Sometimes in my darker moments I wonder if I'm not a millstone around his neck, if I oughtn't to let him go so he has a better chance at being really happy with a woman who's his own kind.  My weight gain before I shipped out wasn't exactly peachy keen, either.  The very worst part is how afraid I am of not really being the woman he's dreamed I was for seven years."  Daphne swallowed down the lump of tears in her throat.

            Irene stepped forward and wrapped her arm around Daphne's shoulders, her words firm.  "Now you are being foolish!  You've lost the weight and look as lovely as ever, Niles clearly thinks enough of you still to fly to London, and I really think you're making too much of not hearing from him lately.  He's probably been busy planning his trip.  You've listened to your silly mother far too much lately, I bet, and I'm quite sure everything will be fine tomorrow when he stops by.  His plane is due in late tonight, right?"

            "Yes, around eleven.  He's staying at that nice house hotel in Soho, Hazlitt's, which isn't too horribly far, I suppose.  I guess I'll just stay here and try not to be depressed 'til he calls—whenever he does."

            Irene cocked her head and looked at Daphne thoughtfully.  "I don't think that's a good idea at all.  Look, I promised Aidan I'd take he and Tabby to the Imperial War Museum today since it's a Bank Holiday.  Ever since he saw that BBC show on the Battle of Britain, he's become quite the little warmonger—wants to be a pilot and shoot some Germans."  Irene paused, and then grinned.  "From what I've heard, the place is a lot more interesting than the bad old days when they dragged us down from Manchester on buses and droned on about the glorious past.  There are lots of new exhibits, interactive stuff that's supposed to show you what war feels like.  Why don't you come along?  I will tell you I could use the extra help with the children."

            Daphne thought for a minute, and then gave Irene a small smile.  "All right, I guess I will."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

            Tabitha skipped into the gallery as she chanted, "I'm faster than you are!" at her older brother.  Aidan ignored her, however, secure in the eminence of his nine years, and glanced at a flushed and laughing Daphne.  "You really liked that too, didn't you?"

            Daphne stared into Aidan's cornflower blue eyes, his blond hair transformed to pure gilt by the light from the ceiling.  _Oh God, this could be my son, mine and Niles's . .  "Yes, Aidan, I liked it. Sometimes it's fun to be scared."  _

            "Oh really!"  Irene walked up to them with a huge grin.  "I don't know about that.  I certainly know now, though, why they call it 'The Blitz Experience.'  For just a minute, I convinced myself that I'd fallen down the rabbit hole and came out in 1940."

            "It was awfully vivid, wasn't it?"  Daphne felt the melancholia surge in her heart again.  "How do you suppose we would have managed then, Irene?"

            Irene pondered the question for a few moments.  "I don't really know, Daph.  I'd like to think we would have managed as well as our grammies, but it's so hard to tell.  That's the problem nowadays; the whole world is all smug and satisfied, without any real challenges.  Not that I'm wishing for a war, mind you, but war does have the virtue of forcing you to discover what you're really made of."  Irene paused and opened her mouth to continue speaking when a wailing commotion erupted from the other end of the gallery.

            "Oh damn!"  Irene muttered darkly.  "Just like Aidan and Tabby to start another world war when we're out in public."

            Daphne chuckled as Irene bore down on her errant young, and then she began perusing the glass case next to her.  It was full of things from the Forties—photos, posters, letters.  One open letter caught her eye.  She began to read.

                                                                                    April 10, 1944 

_                                                My darling Tony,_

_                                                            I can't imagine what you're_

_                                                going through right now waiting for_

_                                                the invasion.  We met just two months_

_                                                ago, & it already seems like forever_

_                                                because I love you so much . . . _

            Daphne felt the tears welling up as she read.  Grammy Moon's wistful voice drifted back to her from when she was a little girl.  "_The Americans were wonderful & so much fun when I worked in London," _Grammy said.  "_There was one in particular—he was a bomber pilot stationed in East Anglia who I met when he was on leave.  He had the most beautiful blue eyes I'd ever seen.  They made me knees go weak."_

_            "What happened to him, Grammy?" _asked_ little Daphne, her own eyes shining._

            _"He died during a bombing run," _Grammy said sadly.  She'd gotten very pale, and no matter how much Daphne begged her, she refused to say anything else, leaving Daphne to always wonder what had really happened with the mysterious pilot.

            Daphne kept staring at the letter, mesmerized and unaware of the tears rolling down her face.  A worried Irene came up to her and swung her around, groping for a handkerchief while she asked Daphne, "Good God, Daphne, what is it?  What's the matter?"

            "I was remembering Grammy Moon's stories about the war, the whole mess with Niles, Mel and me, everything all at once.  What's wrong with me, for God's sake?  People back then knew for sure how they felt after a few months, even a few weeks, and sometimes they've stayed married for fifty years or longer.  What magic key did they have then that we don't?  Why can't I be sure of Niles' feelings, my feelings, anybody's feelings?"  Daphne gasped for breath as she rubbed her tears away.

            Irene hugged her tightly.  "I don't know the answer to that either.  I do know you'll make yourself sick if you don't pull yourself together, and I'm quite sure you don't want to be all red-nosed and puffy-eyed when Niles sees you tomorrow."

            "I'm fine now, really," Daphne said, drawing in a deep breath.  "I just wish I could find me way out of this maze."

            "I'm sure you will."  Irene shot a look at her watch.  "Lord, it's past four thirty.  We need to catch the Tube before rush hour if I'm going to have supper on the table at a decent hour.  Aidan! Tabby!  Come on, it's time to go."  She patted Daphne's hand.  "You'll feel much better after a nice meal and a good night's sleep, you know."

            "Maybe—maybe not," said Daphne wearily, as she trailed after Irene and the children.              _                                   _

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

                Daphne lay in bed that night and stared at the ceiling.  Tired as she was, sleep still eluded her, her mind refusing to slow down.  She had been so quiet and withdrawn during supper that Ian had insisted on fixing her his special hot toddy, just the thing, he claimed, to avoid a bad cold and to keep her fresh for her big day tomorrow.  She hoped it would knock her out soon.

            She turned her head a little and saw the crescent moon floating above the London housetops.  My moon goddess, Niles had called her that last night.  My fairy child, the queen of my world, my heart's empress.  _Please God, please let him still feel that way . . . don't let him break my heart . . .I never imagined I'd love him this much . . . I can't bear it now without him . . ._

            Her self-control finally snapped, and she buried her face in the pillow and let the tears flow.  As her shoulders shook with her violent sobs, sheer fatigue dragged her down into a fitful sleep.  Her mind, however, still would not yield, and began to slide away from her body.  It seemed to drift slowly, continuing to slide into another place, another time, another life . . . 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  

_            She closed her eyes, letting the sunlight warm her lids.  She thought perhaps if she sat there long enough, the sun would burn away her memories of the past two years.  She could still hear the voice of Donny's mother on the telephone, crying about El Alamein.  She still saw Michael's determined face as he told their horrified mum, "I'm sixteen now and I've got to join up, I can't hold my head up if I don't!"  She still tasted her mum's tears as she held Daphne and cried, "Don't go to London, Daphne--what will we do without you?"_

            "Miss Moon, I need you to take a letter, please."

            Daphne's eyes snapped open as she jumped a little with surprise.  She gave the man on the other side of the large desk a guilty little smile.  "I am so sorry, Mr. Eden, I guess I was thinking too much."

              Mr. Eden leaned over to give her a clumsy pat on her shoulder.  "I understand, Miss Moon, you have quite a lot to think about with seven brothers in the thick of it and the losses you've suffered.  But even so, you must not forget that the regular business of the Foreign Office goes on in spite of war, or anything else for that matter."  Mr. Eden's greying mustache seemed to bristle up as he spoke.  Because of it and his last name, rumor claimed he was a distant cousin of the dashing Foreign Secretary.  Given his low position on the Foreign Office totem pole, however, Daphne had her doubts.

            "This is to the consulates in Santiago and Quito.  Please make it today's date."  Daphne glanced at the wall calendar and jotted down:  _July 16, 1944.  _

                "Our current situation in the Normandy theater of operations is as follows . . ."

            After an hour of dry dictation, Daphne heard Big Ben chime five times in the distance.  Mr. Eden paused, stopped, pulled out his pipe.  "That is quite enough for today, Miss Moon.  You are free to go now.  Are you scheduled for a nursing class this evening?"

            "No, sir, the hospital has cut them back to once a week for the moment, because all the wounded from the invasion are taking up so much of the matrons' time.  Hopefully they will go back to a regular schedule soon and then I can get my certificate."

            "I hope so as well.  I know how anxious you are to do better in life.  I shall see you tomorrow then."  He leaned back over his desk.

            Daphne slipped her coat on over the new rose-colored suit she'd pieced together from two of her mum's old dresses, hurried down the stairs, and stepped into Whitehall.  The sight of the boarded-up statue of Charles I depressed her as always; she turned her face away from it and began to walk north to her and Annie's flat.  She carefully dodged the piles of debris caused by the latest V-1 attacks, worried about getting a run in the last precious pair of stockings Annie had somehow gotten for her.

            _Your losses . . ._After two years, that seemingly innocent phrase still held the power to sting.  Two years since poor dear Donny had been killed at El Alamein, tearing a hole in her heart that still bled.  Two weeks after the news of her fiancé's death, her mum went to pieces when Michael—the baby, the last one left—announced he was joining up immediately now that he was sixteen.  With Nigel having been shot down four years before in the Battle of Britain, Simon a prisoner of war somewhere in Burma, and the other five boys all fighting on various fronts, it was understandable that Mrs. Moon wanted to keep one son alive, but it hadn't made her easy to live with.

            Three months of constant hysteria took its toll on Daphne.  She quit her job at the munitions factory and calmly informed her parents she was moving to London to get a better job and train as a nurse so she could support herself after the war was over.  Her mum went a little crazy again, crying, "But where can you stay, for heaven's sake, and how will you manage at all?"

            "Annie has a nice little flat near Covent Garden that's big enough for two.  She's already offered to have me.  With Annie's job at the pub plus the money I pull in, we'll do fine.  I'm terribly sorry to hurt you so, Mummy, but there's too many ghosts now here in Manchester and I need to get on with my life or I'll go mad meself."

                As she slowly made her way through Trafalgar Square and started up St. Martin's Lane, Daphne reflected on her two years in London.  They had been a lot of hard work, but also had been a lot of fun, she thought.  She was due to finish her nurse's training within a year, and the Foreign Office job—obtained with the help of one of Annie's numerous boyfriends—certainly represented a step up the social ladder even if the pay wasn't spectacular.  Annie's flair for procuring black market extras like stockings, lipstick, and even clothes had allowed both girls to keep looking reasonably smart in spite of rationing.  Daphne suspected that the less she knew about Annie's activities in that area, the better off she was.

            Daphne climbed the stairs to the third floor flat and let herself in.  It was cold, dark, and silent.  Daphne hurried to draw the curtains, then turned on the lights and gas.  She went into the kitchen, and found a note from Annie on the table.

                                                _Daphne--_

_                                                            Roz called me in to work an_

_                                                extra shift at the pub.  Come have a _

_                                                pint and try to relax a little.  Roz _

_                                                thinks some Yank flyboys  are_

_coming in tonight._

_                                                                        Annie_

Daphne grimaced a little.  Annie was always after her to start dating again.  "You can't mourn forever, y'know.  You've still got your looks at twenty-nine, love, so you need to bag somebody before it's too late!"  Daphne tried to explain it wasn't grief that held her back, it was the need to concentrate on other things and her sense she just wasn't ready yet.  Since Annie always scoffed at her, Daphne usually avoided the topic whenever possible.  __

                Daphne fixed herself a rather dispiriting meal of leftover sausages and Brussels sprouts.  She ate quickly while studying one of her nursing textbooks.  After she finished and carried the dishes to the sink, she looked at Annie's note again.

            _She's right_, Daphne thought.  _I don't relax enough, at least not very often.  It wouldn't hurt me to go down and spend some time with Annie and Roz, especially since I didn't have me class tonight._

            She hurried into the bathroom to wash her face off and put on some fresh makeup.  As Annie always said, it never hurt to be careful, though Daphne doubted she'd meet anyone worth bothering with.  All the good men were in Normandy now, anyway.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

                Her high heels clicking against the pavement, her small hat tipped at a jaunty angle on top of her French rolled hair, Daphne hurried back down St. Martin's Lane and cut through an alley to Rose Street.  She was anxious to get to the Lamb & Flag before darkness fell.  Walking into a lamppost, thanks to the blackout, wasn't likely to improve her looks.

            The pub, dark and poky, still felt cozy to Daphne whenever she visited.  It still somehow had a very good wine list despite the war, which was enough of a draw to attract even Mr. Eden for an occasional glass.

            The pub's other star attraction hailed Daphne as the young woman entered.  "What'll be, Daph? Cider, Whitbread's, or Guinness at last?"

            "Cider, please, Roz—it's still my favorite."

            Roz Doyle gave her a wry smile as she drew the pint.  Thirty-six years old, with a ripe body and a roving eye, the Irish-born Roz had take over the pub two years ago and immediately hired Annie to help her tend bar.  The two women's looks, as well as their reportedly easygoing morals, insured an ample clientele of American soldiers and airmen on leave.  Her auburn curls, nearly the same shade as Daphne's, bounced as she shook her head.  "You've got to learn to handle real drink someday, girl."

            Annie bounded over happily.  "Oh, good, Daphne, you came!  Look over in the corner—I told you some flyboys were coming in, and they're rather cute."

            As Daphne glanced over at the laughing, singing group, one of the young airmen started to balance his pint of ale on top of his head.  Roz yelled, "Damn it, Shaw, don't break my bloody glasses, and don't spill my liquor on the bloody floor!  We both know your lieutenant's pay doesn't cover your tab, much less anything else!"

            Lt. Shaw, tall and lanky with dark hair flopping in his eyes and a cigarette dangling from his mouth, gave Roz a mocking grin.  "Roz honey, I've always told you if it's a question of money, payment in kind can always be arranged."

            As Roz's whiskey laugh rang out, Daphne's attention focused on the man sitting next to Lt. Shaw.  He wore a captain's bars and was clearly somewhat older than the rest of the men, though his blond hair and fine features made him look surprisingly boyish.  He chuckled quietly, drained his glass, and glanced in Daphne's direction.  Chestnut brown eyes met gentian blue ones, froze, locked.  For an endless moment Daphne stopped breathing.  _My God, he's got the loveliest blue eyes I've ever seen on a man—he can't possibly be for real, dear God—_

            Her entranced state was broken a shout from Roz.  "Listen!"

            Daphne heard it then—the spluttering noise of a V-1 approaching, then the sinister silence of its engine cutting out.

            "Doodlebug!"  Roz shouted.  "Everybody hit the deck!"

            Daphne closed her eyes and started to fling herself down.  The V-1 connected with the street outside as a horrendous roar filled the pub and her ears . . .

            When Daphne opened her eyes again, she found herself laying face down on the floor.  Dust and smoke floated around, broken glass was scattered across the floorboards, and she heard muted moans from every direction.  She sat up slowly and realized something wet and sticky was in her eyes.  She lifted her hand to her temple; she was startled when she saw her fingers were covered in blood.  Daphne tried to pull herself up, but a wave of dizziness washed over her.  Suddenly a pair of hands slid along her ribs, and she heard a clear tenor voice saying, "Please let me help—you've been hurt."  She turned her head slowly and found herself gazing into a pool of gentian blue again.

            It was the blond American captain.

            He took a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to her head, frowning a little.  "That's a rather bad cut.  Try not to move quickly, or you may faint.  Is there anyone here who can—"

            A shout interrupted him.  "Captain Crane!  Looks like all the men are OK except for cuts and bruises, sir!"

            "Good.  Lt. Shaw, can you step over here and give a hand with this young lady?  She's been injured."

            At that moment, Annie rushed up, her face coated in dust and soot.  "Daphne!  You're hurt!  How bad is it?  Can you get home?"

            "I'm—I'm not sure."  Daphne swayed a little as she began to stand.  Captain Crane braced her and spoke sharply to Annie. 

            "Are you a friend of hers?"

            "Yes.  Daphne's my flatmate, but I work here so I can't take her home right away.  Will you be right for a little while, Daphne?"

            Captain Crane shook his head.  "She needs to stay off her feet sooner rather than later, and that cut should be cleaned and bandaged promptly to avoid infection.  Where do the two of you live?"

            Daphne spoke up then in a wobbly voice.  "Our flat's at 7 Upper St. Martin's Lane.  I—I walked here.  I—I think I can go back."  She stumbled a little as she took a few steps.

            "I don't think, Miss—?"  He peered at her inquiringly.

            "Moon—Daphne Moon," Daphne replied faintly.

            "I don't think, Miss Moon, that it's a good idea for you try walking alone.  None of my men are hurt, so I have some time to give you.  It would be an honor, not to mention I'd feel much better if you let me help you.  Please?"  He gave her a smile of unexpected—and devastating—charm.

            "Why, yes, I—I guess you can, if you feel that way.  Thank you so much."  Daphne felt herself blushing and bit her lip in vexation.

            "That's settled then," Captain Crane said with relief.  His voice became commanding again.  "Lt. Shaw, you're in charge until I get back.  While Miss Moon's flat isn't far, I suspect bomb debris in the streets will slow us down, and I need to tend to that cut.  Expect me back in about an hour."

            "Yes, sir!"  Lt. Shaw gave him a snappy salute.

            Daphne became aware of Captain Crane's arm around her waist, as he tried to propel her to the door.  She stopped dead and demanded fuzzily, "Where's my hat and purse?"

            "Here they are, love."  Annie handed then to her after shaking the dust off.  "Thank you so much for helping Daphne, Captain Crane, and do be careful along the way."

            "But of course."  The two of them moved to the door, glass crunching underneath their feet, and stepped out into the street.  They looked around in amazement.  Daphne heard him murmur, "Good Lord, a scene straight out of Dante's Inferno."

            The large hole directly in front of the pub gaped at them like an all-devouring mouth.  Chunks of plaster and brick lay everywhere, illuminated by fires from a couple of neighboring buildings.  The toxic perfume of gas from a broken line enveloped them.

            Daphne shivered and said shakily, "That was much too close."

            "Yes, it was.  I suggest we get going now, before another one falls to earth."  Captain Crane sounded shaken as well.  "Give me your hand—be careful, now . . ." He gently helped her off the curb as they cautiously dodged around the hole.  "Here we go!"

            The next fifteen minutes or so passed in a hazy, dreamy state for Daphne as the two of them carefully wended their way west through the twisting Covent Garden alleyways.  She realized her floating sensation was produced less by the cut on her head than by the arm wrapped around her waist.  _Why couldn't I meet some ordinary working stiff who's me own kind, _Daphne wondered.  _No, it has to be some American who looks and talks like a duke's son, or a movie star . . .I can tell just by looking at him that he's much too fine for a little working class lass like me . . ._

            Daphne came back to reality abruptly as she and Captain Crane arrived at her door in a somewhat breathless condition.  She silently handed her purse to him, and he proceeded to fish out the key, unlock the door, and throw it open.  He gently guided her in and made a beeline for the kitchen table.  Daphne collapsed onto a chair as Captain Crane began talking again.

            "I need to dress that cut for you.  Where's the bathroom?  Do you have a first aid kit in there?"

            "It's right through that door, in the medicine cabinet."

            He disappeared into the loo.  Daphne leaned over to take her shoes off.  As she reached down, her fingers brushed one stockinged leg.  "Oh, damn!"

            Captain Crane emerged clutching her training kit in one hand.  "What's wrong?  Are you cut somewhere else?"

            "No, it's not that, I'm—I'm sorry I startled you.  It's—it's just that I was stupid enough to wear me last good pair of stockings tonight, and they're ruined now."

            "Better the stockings than that lovely leg of yours, Miss Moon."  Daphne felt the hot blood rush to her cheeks again.  "Now I'm going to clean the cut—it will sting, but try not to flinch too much."

            Daphne gritted her teeth while the Captain swabbed alcohol over her injury.  He then began to bandage her head with calm, deft hands.  She found herself speculating how deft his hands might be at other things, then mentally scolded herself for stooping to the gutter, at least a little.

Captain Crane finished the bandage and stepped back to survey his handiwork.  "Not completely elegant, but reasonably neat, and it does the job.  You'd better take some aspirin now."

"I--I will.  Thank you ever so much for all your help tonight.  Please, do let me fix you a cup of tea for your trouble."  Daphne started to climb to her feet.  A firm hand on her shoulder pushed her down immediately. 

"I'm perfectly capable of making both of us tea if you tell me where everything is.  You need to keep sitting, please."

After pointing out the tea, Daphne began to slowly relax as he bustled about the kitchen.  She was still aware of the oddness of the situation, of how unusual it was to have a total stranger in her flat who was doing things for her, but it didn't seem to matter anymore.  

Captain Crane placed a cup of tea in front of her and sat down opposite.  As he did, his eyes rested on several framed photos on the wall.  "The dark-haired man must be your boyfriend—if I'm not being forward in asking?"

"You're not.  Yes, that was me fiancé, Donny—he was killed at El Alamein two years ago."  

"I'm very sorry."  His voice was sincere.  "This other picture must be your family—you have a lot of brothers, don't you?"

  "That's Michael, he's the baby, I came down to London from Manchester two years ago when he joined up.  Simon's a P. O. W. somewhere in Burma, and Nigel was an R. A. F. pilot . . ."

For the next five minutes, he skillfully drew Daphne out, encouraging her to talk freely about herself while he listened to her with intense attention.  After telling him about her nursing classes, she paused and gave him an impish smile.  "Here I am, rattling on about meself, and I don't even know your Christian name.  Please tell me about yourself—I like to know who me knights in shining armor are, you know."

"Well, my name is Niles Crane, and I'm a bomber captain with the 91st Bomb Group at Bassingborne outside Cambridge."  Daphne realized he was blushing a little now.  "I'm from Seattle, in Washington state on the Pacific coast, which is where my parents are.  I have one brother, Frasier."

"Is he a pilot too?"

"No, he's in the Army with a rather offbeat role.  He's an art historian, so he's serving in Italy as a Monuments man."  Seeing Daphne's puzzled look, he explained, "They're a small group who are responsible for protecting art and buildings in combat zones, and who are also trying to track and recover art the Nazis stole.  It sounds easier than what I do, but don't be fooled; judging from Frasier's letters, you can be shot at just as much when you're sandbagging a church fresco as on a bombing run!  He seems to have fallen for a fiery Italian Jewess who is part of the Florentine Resistance and who helps him find pictures."  He took another sip of tea and chuckled.  "Lord only knows what our parents will make of her, though I daresay they won't care as long as we both stay alive."

"What did you do before the war?"

"I was studying to be a psychologist like my mother.  I actually was halfway to getting a Ph.D. at Emmanuel College in Cambridge when the war broke out.  I wanted to volunteer for the R. A. F. immediately, but my parents—especially my mother—wouldn't hear of it.  I went home, but signed up for flight training as soon as I got there.  Mother still wasn't pleased, but Dad made her accept it.  She thought I should stay in Seattle, take over her practice, manage the old family timber money, and marry my ever-so-suitable fiancée."

"You're engaged then."  Daphne fought to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"Was," Captain Crane—Niles—corrected easily.  "Maris sent me the classic 'Dear John' letter ten months ago.  I can't say I really minded—the more time I was away, the more I realized she wasn't the right one, no matter how good her family connections were.  Too chilly, I'm afraid."

Daphne ventured, "It must be nice for you, to be based near Cambridge after you studied there.  You got to see London before it got smashed to pieces, too."

"Yes to both."  Niles smiled nostalgically.  "I've been able to visit some of my old profs once or twice.  It's a reminder of better days, and gives me hope that someday I can go back to that kind of life.  I have to say I'm very lucky with my flight crew; my co-pilot happens to be a musicologist from out west in Utah who keeps the music flowing and our spirits up.  Neither of us were naturals at this, needless to say, so we keep each other company among the tougher sort.  We may be Westerners, but Hansen and I are hardly the ten gallon type, as you can tell in my case."

Daphne leaned forward impulsively and touched his hand lightly.  "You seem to do just fine to me, after seeing you handle things in the pub."

Niles's face took on a brooding quality.  "I suppose, but something like that is easy, my dear Miss Moon.  It's when you're flying at high altitude with a bunch of younger men who are your responsibility, dodging flak during a raid while praying you hit your target, that your oxygen supply doesn't go, and that nobody gets hurt or killed, that I begin to realize I was much too ambitious about my fighting capacities.  On the other hand, I would have felt like an utter failure if I hadn't done something—this is no time for cowards."  He stared thoughtfully at her, and then glanced at his watch.  "Damn!  I've been gone for over an hour—I've got to get back there, or Shaw may think the worst, and you certainly don't deserve anything like that, Miss Moon."

"Daphne, please.  Let me see you to the door."

She walked slowly and opened the door for him.  As Niles stepped back into the landing, he turned and smiled at her again, making her feel a little faint once more.  "I hope you recover quickly, Miss—Daphne."

"I hope so too."  She held her hand out.  "Captain Crane, I can't thank you enough for all your help and concern tonight.  You are a very gallant gentleman."

"It was my pleasure.  I will try to write you and find out how you are doing."  To her utter surprise, he lifted her hand to his lips and gave her a soft kiss on the back of her hand.  "Good night, my dear Daphne, and sweet dreams."  

Daphne watched as Niles quickly vanished into the darkness of the stairs.  _My God, he is a real peach and a darling—and he treated me like I was a lady to the manor born.  Will I ever see him again?  _Her shoulders drooped.  _I doubt it._

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

            Daphne received the correct answer to her question two weeks later.

            She came home, tired after a long day at the office, to discover a package sitting on the kitchen table.  Annie was staring at the elaborately decorated box with the eager greed of a child on Christmas morning while she drank a cup of tea.  "Look, Daphne, look!  It came just a little while ago!  What do you suppose it is?  I guess you have a secret admirer, love.  Do open it, Daphne!"

            Daphne reached for the card tucked under a small cluster of fresh flowers in a sleepwalker's daze.  "My admirer isn't secret, Annie, or he wouldn't have sent a card.  Give me a minute to read it."  She unfolded the creamy white paper with a trembling hand.

                                                                        _July 30, 1944_

_                                    Dear Miss Moon,_

_                        I sincerely hope you will accept the enclosed_

_ present, since I know how upset you were at_

_ losing your last pair.  I was afraid you would_

_ find this gift more than a little fresh, but no_

_ evil intent is offered, believe me.  I would also_

_ like to invite you, and your friend Annie, to a _

_dance we're throwing this coming Saturday at _

_8 p.m. at our base at Bassingborne. I know it_

_ will take some traveling to get here, but  it _

_would make me very happy if you could come._

_                        Yours truly,_

_                        Niles Crane, Captain, U.S.A.A.F._

            Daphne passed the note to an excited Annie and turned her attention to the package.  She carefully lifted the flowers off and then unwrapped the fancy paper with equal care.  She raised the lid and gasped.  Inside, resting in a bed of tissue, were five pairs of nylon stockings and—unbelievably—five pairs of silk ones.  There was a black lace garter belt embroidered in purple and green as well.

            "Oh my GOD!"  Annie cried.  "It's the American captain who helped you out at the pub, isn't it?  He must be a bloody prince if he can afford to send you these!"  Seeing Daphne's confused blush, she grabbed Daphne's wrist.  "Why are you blushing, for heaven's sake?  This is absolutely fantastic!  He's cute as a button, he's obviously got money, and he must be seriously interested with a present like this!  You are going to this dance with me, aren't you?  Don't you dare say no!  He seemed to be a gentleman, so I wouldn't worry about him wanting just one thing, darling."

            Daphne murmured, "Yes, Captain Crane was a gentleman, wasn't he? "  She thought for a minute, and straightened up.  "You're right—it wouldn't be at all polite not to go.  I'll write him a note telling him we're coming, and then we need to find out how much the train tickets to Cambridge will cost."

            "Wonderful!"  Annie hugged her tightly.  "Just think, you can wear your new stockings and belt—and I know you won't be sorry, Daphne, I just know it!"

* * * * * * * * * * * *

            Twilight was rapidly fading to night as Daphne and Annie stepped onto the Cambridge station platform a few days later.  Both girls were dressed in their best, but while Annie's excitement bubbled over, Daphne felt a periodic flutter of nerves in her stomach at the prospect of seeing Niles Crane again.

            The two girls looked around in some uncertainty.  "How will we get to Bassingborne?  Did the Captain say anything?" Annie asked.

            Just then a voice from the station hailed them.  "Miss Moon!  It is Miss Moon, isn't it?  Over here!"  A young American lieutenant, who looked like a brown-haired brother of Niles's, stepped over to then.  He grinned, put his hand on his heart, and gave them a slight bow.  "Lt. Dean Hansen, at your service, dear ladies.  Captain Crane asked me to meet you and drive you to the dance.  My Jeep is over here if you just would like to climb in."

            Daphne smiled.  "Are you Captain Crane's co-pilot?"

            "The very same, my dear Miss Moon, as well as his minstrel and occasional court jester, though our merry bombardier Lt. Shaw tends to play that particular part more often."

            Annie giggled and smiled coyly.  "Aren't you the comedian, now?"  She slipped her arm through his.

            "Your flattery is delightful, Miss, but I feel honor bound to tell you that I am happily married with two little children, and my religion is such that cheating on her will never happen.  I will, however, be happy to be your friend and provide any music you might want or need."  His gentle smile took some of the sting from his words.  

            Annie withdrew her arm in considerable embarrassment while Daphne chuckled softly.  They climbed into the Jeep quickly, and Lt. Hansen began to drive at a fairly smart speed down the road.

            The next half-hour passed pleasantly, as Lt. Hansen kept up a constant light-hearted patter that fell on their ears like soft rain and the warm air whipped across their faces.  Before Daphne knew, they were pulling into the gates of Bassingborne base, as Lt. Hansen waved cheerfully at the guards and signaled that the two girls were with him.  He slowed down and stopped in front of a large brick building labeled "MESS HALL."  

            "Here you go, my dear ladies.  Let me give you a hand."  Both girls stepped out cautiously, anxious not to run their new stockings.  "The dance is right in here.  There's plenty of food too, so go in and have something.  I'll be in as soon as I park my chariot."

            The Jeep roared off into the night.  Daphne and Annie walked in eagerly.  Lights shone from Chinese lanterns, while Benny Goodman's "Sing, Sing, Sing" filled the hall.  Dozens of couples were jitterbugging vigorously in the middle of the floor, with excited screams coming from the girls whose partners were strong to flip them over completely.

            "Daphne!"

            Captain Crane walked up to Daphne and took both of her hands in his.  "You made it!  I really am thrilled you decided to come.  I hope you both have a good time at our little party tonight."  She was struck again by how dapper he appeared in his uniform.

            "I'm sure we will, Captain Crane. Thank you for both the present and the invitation."  Daphne watched as a laughing Annie swept onto the dance floor with Lt. Shaw, cigarette at the ready.  She realized Niles was guiding her to a nearby table.

            "You must be hungry after traveling up here.  Please come have something to eat—there's almost too much."

            Daphne's eyes widened as she stared at the long trestle table.  "Oh, my goodness!  There's so much food—look at this!  Sandwiches, iced cakes, chocolate, real eggs!  And the fruit!"  She picked up an orange, her eyes shining with childlike excitement.  "Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've seen an orange, much less eaten one?"  She caught herself as she cradled the orange carefully.  "Oh dear, you must be thinking I'm a very silly girl indeed!  I'm sorry . . ." 

            "Don't be sorry—you're not silly at all, Daphne.  In fact, I think it's sweet that something this simple can bring you so much joy."  His voice held a caressing note.  "Here's a plate.  Take as much as you want, and enjoy every bite—I know how hard rationing is for you."

            Niles piled her plate full of goodies, and escorted her to a small table nearby.  He began to point out his crewmen and make various witty comments for her amusement, while Daphne fought the urge to wolf her meal.  She reminded herself that she would enjoy everything more if she tasted it as it went down.

            Daphne was just savoring the last petit four from her plate when Lt. Hansen sauntered in the door.  When Lt. Shaw saw him, he yelled, "Hey, Briscoe, cut the music!"  The music stopped, and Shaw shouted, "Dean, you old dog, where've you been?  Live music is always the best.  Go over to that piano and play us something.  We've got to show these English girls how to do it right, and you're the best with the keys.  Play!"

            "Yeah, play for us, Dean!"  "Give us a song!"  "Please?"  The other men and girls took up the cry.

            "Oh, all right.  I swear, Tim, you're going to wear my throat out one of these days."  Lt. Hansen crossed over to the battered old upright in the corner and sat down with a flourish.

            Shaw threw his arm out.  "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the 91st Bomb Group's very own musical Mormon, Lieutenant Dean Hansen!  Drum roll, please!  All requests fulfilled."

            Hansen grinned.  "Knock off the fooling, Tim.  That being said, does anybody have a request?"  His hands rippled the piano keys.

            A carrot-topped redhead with freckles and a snub nose called out, "I'd love to hear 'I'll See You Again.'  Can you play that for me?"

            "Of course I can, Marigold . . . a nice, simple, sentimental little song, huh?"  He started to play, his clear tenor soaring upward.

                                                "I'll see you again, 

                                                Whenever spring breaks through again,

                                                Time may lie heavy between,

                                                But what has been,

                                                Is past forgetting . . ."

            A woman's soprano joined in, then a baritone, followed by a deep bass—voice after voice, forming an unexpected choir.

                                                "This sweet memory

                                                Across the years will come to me,

                                                Tho' my world may go awry . . .

Daphne began to sing, and then she realized in stunned surprise that so was Niles, in a light tenor.

                                                "In my heart will ever lie

                                                Just the echo of a sign,

                                                Goodbye!"

            The song finished to a round of general applause.  Daphne looked at Niles and exclaimed, "I had no idea you could sing!"

            He retorted, "I could say the same—you're really quite good, you know."

            Hansen called out, "Does someone else want to sing and show off a little?  I don't care to lose my voice here."

            Annie piped up, "Daphne can sing, can't you, love?  Go ahead, you've got a lovely soprano.  Sing us something!"

            "I-I'm not sure."  Daphne hesitated.  A soft voice broke into her thoughts.

            "I really would like if you sang for me—us, Daphne.  Please?"

            She stared at Niles for a moment, and then walked slowly over to the piano.  She leaned over to Dean and whispered, "You knew 'I'll See You Again.'  Do you know 'Zigeuner', too?"

            "You bet I do."  He played the introduction as Daphne straightened up and began to sing.

                                                "Once upon a time, 

                                                Many years ago,

                                                Lived a fair Princess

                                                Hating to confess

                                                Loneliness was torturing her so . . ."

She could sense Niles's brilliant blue eyes boring into her, making the heat surge in her suddenly.

                                                "Then a gypsy came,

                                                Called to her by name, 

Woo'd her with a song

Sensuous and strong,

All the summer long, 

Her passion seemed to tremble 

Like a living flame.

Play to me beneath the summer moon,

Zigeuner! Zigeuner! Zigeuner!

All I ask of life is just to listen 

To the songs that you sing,

My spirit like a bird on the wing,

Your melodies adoring, soaring.

Call to me with some barbaric tune,

Zigeuner! Zigeuner! Zigeuner!

Now you hold me in your power

Play to me for just an hour,

Zigeuner!"        

Daphne shivered a little, convinced her feelings were written all over her face, that Niles could see how much she was beginning to fall for him . . .

                                                 "Bid my weeping cease,

                                                Melody that brings

                                                Merciful release,           

                                                Promises of peace,

                                                Through the gentle throbbing of the strings.

                                                Music of the plain,

                                                Music of the wild,

                                                Come to me again,

                                                Hear me not in vain,

                                                Soothe a heart in pain

                                                And let me to my happiness be reconciled."

            She felt the suppressed passion pulsing through her voice.  Reckless at last, she allowed it to pour out, knowing her performance was reaching a whole new level of feeling she rarely permitted herself when she sang. 

Play to me beneath the summer moon,

Zigeuner! Zigeuner! Zigeuner!

All I ask of life is just to listen 

To the songs that you sing,

My spirit like a bird on the wing,

Your melodies adoring, soaring.

Call to me with some barbaric tune,

Zigeuner! Zigeuner! Zigeuner!

Now you hold me in your power

Play to me for just an hour,

Zigeuner!"        

            Daphne, her eyes closed, let the last high note linger in the air like a sweetly exotic perfume before gently tapering it off.  Her eyes snapped open as the applause hit her in a wave of sound.  She ducked her head in a brief moment of shyness before smiling at everyone.

            Dean Hansen grabbed her hand.  "Miss Moon, that was splendid!  I'm sure you'd get Mr. Coward's stamp of approval too."

            Daphne said graciously, "Thank you so much, Lt. Hansen, but don't forget that the quality of your playing had a lot to do with it."

            "You're too kind—and please call me Dean."  He raised his voice.  "Hey, this is supposed to be a dance, isn't it?  Put some records on and let's dance!  Make it slow, you all have worn me out."

            The strains of "Moonlight Serenade" swelled up.  Dean took Daphne's hand again and was preparing to lead her onto the dance floor when a tap on his shoulder stopped him dead.

            "I'm very sorry, Hansen, but your commanding officer is cutting in on you.  Hope you don't mind."

            "Not at all."  Dean relinquished her to Niles with a grin.  Niles gave Daphne one of the sweetest smiles she'd ever seen from a man.  

            "Would you care to dance, Daphne?"

            "Yes, I'd love to."  

            He spun her onto the floor and held her with a delicate grace, as though she was a beautiful bird that might fly away from him.  As the dance progressed, however, Niles began to hold her closer and closer.  Daphne closed her eyes again, as she felt herself float with the music and his arms.  She slid into a kind of trance state, her body becoming more and more weightless as she gave herself over completely to the sensations Niles's body was generating in her.

            As the music ended, Daphne stepped away from Niles reluctantly.  She looked at him and realized he was as flushed as she felt, his eyes glittering and his breathing growing shallow.

            "I-I need some fresh air."  Daphne's voice sounded very small to her own ears.

            "So do I."  Niles breathed deeply.  "Care to step outside with me?"

            They went out into the warm summer air in silence.  A pile of canvas-covered crates was stacked against one wall of the mess hall near a window.  Niles helped Daphne scramble onto one, then leaned back beside her.  He finally broke the silence.  "Are you having a good time?"

            "Yes!  Thank you again for inviting me.  I hope I didn't show off too much when I sang."

            "No, you didn't—it was beautiful.  Dean will no doubt insist I get you down for every party now.  He loves good voices, and they aren't thick upon the ground around here."

            Daphne stared into the darkness, able to see the outlines of the Flying Fortresses on the hardstandings with the aid of the faint moonlight.  "Is that your plane over there, Captain Crane?"

            "It's right there."  Niles pointed to his left, and grinned.  "Don't you think you could call me Niles now?"

            "All right—Niles.  Bet you have one of those big-breasted pin-ups painted on the nose, don't you?  Especially if Lt. Shaw had anything to say about it."  Daphne smiled at him.

            Niles smiled back as he shook his head.  "Actually, we don't, but you can't laugh when I tell what it is.  Promise?"

            "I promise."

            "It's the picture of a standing crane, with its head turned up and musical notes streaming from its throat.  You see, that's the nickname the other crews gave our B-17—'The Singing Crane.'  Between my last name and my singing co-pilot, not to mention my own piano playing and Shaw's ability at writing bawdy song lyrics, it was deemed perfect."  He cleared his throat and shot her a look.  "Besides, cranes are considered lucky, so that might be good after all.  I do seem to have a luckier track record than most of the other pilots.  Only ten casualties, a handful of injuries, and relatively light plane damage over fifteen missions.  Another ten, and I and my crew are in the clear."

            "You get to go home then?"

            "That's right.  Twenty-five missions completed, and you're shipped home."  Niles's smile grew more somber, then faded away.  "Of course, it's basically playing Russian roulette trying to get to the magic number.  Only a tiny group of plane crews have done it.  The odds aren't exactly in anybody's favor, you know.  I suppose that's why I worry so much before every mission—not for myself, but for the rest of my crew.  Look at Dean—he's twenty-nine with a wife and two lovely little children.  He carries their pictures in his pocket for good luck, always.  What happens to them when I make a mistake, and then I get to write her a nice letter telling her that her husband is dead?  You learn far too quickly that there is no such thing as a milk run, and one of those is as likely to kill you as a suicide mission into the heart of the Ruhr."  He breathed deeply again.  "I'm the old man at thirty-one, and I know in my heart the powers above will be very kind to me if I see thirty-two." 

            Daphne shuddered.  "Don't talk about dying—that really is bad luck!"  She gave him a coaxing smile.  "We've having such a fun time tonight, don't jinx it."  She glanced around again.  "You know, this is much nicer than I expected—I always heard that most American air bases hereabouts were mud holes."

            "Most of them are, believe me.  You should see the bases at Thorpe Abbots and Grafton Underwood—the men there call it 'Grafton Undermud.'  His mood lightened a little.  "The rest of the 8th Air Force calls this 'Country Club' Bassingborne.  It was originally a R. A. F. base that we Yanks got transferred to in '42 while the runway at Kimbolton was being lengthened.  Legend claims that the base commander, Colonel Wray, actually didn't have any orders to bring us here, but that he was so impressed with the place he simply moved in and took over lock, stock, and barrel.  Of course, everyone also says that he's ordered us to always crash land in fields of Brussels sprouts, so take it with a grain of salt."

            Daphne giggled.  "Brussels sprouts are pretty depressing, aren't they?  The food here isn't, though.  You can't imagine what it means to have such a good meal and not have to worry about ration coupons or making something from nothing."

            "I do know, Daphne.  I'll have to start sending you oranges regularly so you can stay healthy."  Niles's face took on a dreamy cast in the moonlight.  "I have to tell you, though, than this can't even begin to compare with the feasts Emmanuel served up at the May Balls.  Whole roasted swans, haunches of venison, wildly spiced curries, and every dessert known to man.  Wine flowed like water, and then they fixed a luscious breakfast at dawn, with champagne in the punt as you drifted down the Cam and watched the sun come up."  He gave her a sad smile.  "If we're lucky, they might hold them again, after the war, and then I can take you to one.  You'd have a elegant time—I'm sure of it."

            "It sounds fabulous, but I'm sure it's much too fine for the likes of me."  Daphne couldn't keep the tinge of bitterness out of her voice.

            Niles dropped his hand heavily on her arm.  "For God's sake, don't you dare talk about yourself like that!"  He swung himself around to face her directly as he grasped her other arm.  "You are sweet, intelligent, and very beautiful, in case you didn't notice.  You are one of those rare women who can grace any occasion, no matter what it is, because you have real dignity and style."  He swallowed as his voice dropped to a whisper.  "Don't you know, Daphne Moon, just how highly I regard you, even with such a short acquaintance?  When I look at you, I see a pearl beyond all price."

            _Dear Lord . . ._ Daphne couldn't speak.  She stared into Niles's eyes, hers imploring him to do the one thing she couldn't ask.  She sensed he was leaning towards her, and then she felt his lips on hers.

            At first his kiss was soft, tender, as he slowly traced the outline of her mouth with his.  As it went on, however, it became more intense, as Daphne parted her lips under his and he allowed himself to explore the inside of her mouth.  Her hands slid up his back to the sides of his head as she pulled him in to her to deepen the kiss.  Time seemed to stand still for an enraptured Daphne as Niles kept kissing her and she felt the rest of his body responding to the growing level of desire between them.  She tipped her head back and moaned as his mouth began to leisurely explore her neck.  _Donny never kissed me like this . . ._ Daphne groaned and whispered, "Please don't stop."

            The sound of Daphne's voice seemed to bring Niles crashing back to earth.  He broke off the kiss and laid his head on her shoulder, his breathing ragged and his eyes glazed.  "Daphne, Daphne . . .I've got to stop, now, or we're going to do something we may both regret later.  I think too much of you to risk that, or have you end up disappointed, or worse yet hating me."

            "I don't think it's possible for me to hate you, ever, Niles."  He could barely hear her whisper.

            "Listen, this is not some idle fling or flirtation on my part, I can assure you of that.  I want to see you again, whenever I can get leave and come up to London."  Niles paused and looked at Daphne anxiously.  "Is that all right with you?"

            Daphne felt pure joy sing through her blood.  "Of course it is—I want to see you again too, very much."  She laughed.  "I can't believe you still have to ask the question!"

            "Forgive me for being rather silly sometimes."  Niles reached for her waist and lifted her down from the crate.  "That's settled, then.  Now I think, my dearest Daphne, we should go back in and enjoy more food and dancing before I have to drive you to Cambridge to catch your train."

            Daphne nodded as she slipped her hand into his.

            "That would be perfect," she said simply.                     

* * * * * * * * * * * *

            Through August and September, Daphne felt that she was riding a high-speed merry-go-round.  If she wasn't at work, she was taking a nursing class, and if she wasn't at work or class, then she was with Niles.  That fact was what kept her going through many a long and tiring day, and seemed to suffuse her world in a golden glow.

            Niles somehow contrived to get 24 or 48 hour leaves between most of his missions.  As soon he got his pass, he'd call her and she'd hurry home to prepare herself for another evening out.  He took her everywhere—concerts, plays, and any other entertainment they could find in an increasingly battered London.  They became regulars at all the best nightclubs—the 400 Club, the Embassy, the Florida.  Once, Niles even spent an outrageous amount on a basket from Fortnum & Mason's and they picnicked at Kew Gardens, cherishing both food and flowers while they laughed like children and briefly forget about the war.  What made Daphne happiest, no matter what they were doing, was the respect Niles gave her without hesitation, the attention he lavished on her and the encouragement he offered.  Her only frustration came when Niles played the gentleman and hesitated from taking their lovemaking to the final level.

            Other times, though, the war reared its ugly head once more and reminded Daphne painfully that she and Niles were living on borrowed time in some ways.  His leave was sometimes canceled at the last minute, leaving them only letters or the telephone.  His letters, calls, and even visits took on a darker hue as his casualty rate increased and he was forced to fly more and more missions.  Daphne was touched that Niles tried so hard to mask his mounting worry when they were together, and that he thought enough of her to talk about it when it got too burdensome.

            As the leaves changed color and drifted down, Daphne found she was praying more and more, _Dear God, keep him safe.  Take anything, take my brothers, take my whole life away, just let him live._  She felt guilty over mentally offering her brothers up as a sacrifice, but she couldn't control the impulse.  Niles had come to mean that much to her.

            When she was alone in her room some nights, she took all her presents from Niles and lined them up carefully on the bed.  She knelt there then and touched each one with reverence.  Annie caught her at her little ritual once and laughed.

            "Counting up your prizes, Daph?  How sweet!  You have done well for yourself, haven't you?"

            Daphne shook her head.  "It isn't that at all, Annie," she began, and then stopped.  How could she possibly explain to Annie that her gifts had become beads on her own personal rosary?  Each one represented another mission completed, another step closer to the day Niles would be safe forever.  She counted each mission off in her mind as she touched something.  The garter belt—_sixteen; _a jeweled pair of combs—_seventeen;_ a beaded purse—_eighteen; _a gilt-edged book of John Donne's love poems—_nineteen_; a fragile gold locket—_twenty_; an unbelievable sapphire and pearl bracelet—_twenty-one . . . _ 

            The half-mad waltz Niles and Daphne were dancing together slowed to a stately pavane by October, as the mounting pressure for more and more bombing raids to end the war forced Niles to stop asking for leave entirely.  Daphne did manage to go to Bassingborne for another base party early in the month, where she sang endlessly under a delighted Dean's prompting.  It was only once, however, and hardly enough for either Niles or Daphne, both now utterly in love but rarely saying it out loud for fear of the lightning striking them at last.  Daphne resigned herself to seeing far less of Niles, and reminded herself that the magic number was that much closer with each mission.  He sent her more presents, of course, which she religiously added to her little cache.  First there was a pair of earrings to go with the sapphire bracelet.  He then sent her a totally frivolous antique lace fan, encrusted with embroidery and jewels, which was labeled with its previous owner's name in delicate Victorian copperplate:  _Daphne._  She hugged each gift passionately, counting again—_twenty-two . . . twenty-three . . ._

            Daphne received the unexpected telephone call at the office in late October, on a cool and dreary Friday when Mr. Eden was gone to meetings all day and Daphne was catching up on her filing.  As the 'phone buzzed, she slammed the file drawer shut and dived for it.

            "Mr. Eden's office.  May I help you, please?"

            "Daphne?"

            "Niles! How wonderful to hear from you!  Does this mean you're coming up to town soon?"

            "Yes—tonight, actually.  I really need to see you, badly.  You don't mind, do you?"  The tension on the other end of the line practically screamed at her.

            "Of course not.  Is there some place you'd like to go?"

            "Gielgud's new production of _Hamlet_ just opened at the Haymarket, and since my old prof Rylands directed, I want to see it.  Pick you up at six?  We can eat a quick bite before the play."

            "Fine.  I'll see you then."

            Daphne hung up in a fever of anticipation tinged with worry.  He sounded so tense it was frightening.  She left the office a little early and hurried home to wash and change.

            When Niles arrived at the flat, all his smiles plus the corsage he gave Daphne failed to hide his preoccupation.  Daphne respected his terseness and kept the conversation light during dinner.  They walked to the Haymarket quietly; once they were seated, Niles seemed to relax just a little.  Daphne bided her time, sure he would open up to her eventually.

            As the play began, Daphne was rapidly swept up into the action.  She'd read the play at school, but had been bored to tears then.  She was fascinated now, finally understanding it completely and marveling at the beauty of the acting, particularly Gielgud's Hamlet.  She stole the occasional sideways glance at Niles sitting beside her.  He watched the whole in a motionless austerity that was more unnerving to Daphne than open emotion would have been.  _Something is terribly wrong—what could it be?_

            After the play was over, the two of them stepped out into the street slowly.  Daphne sighed deeply and smiled a little. "I feel like I'm waking up from a spell!  I'm so glad we saw it; I never really understood _Hamlet_ before."

            "No question about it being the greatest play in the world, especially in a performance like that one."  His tight smile betrayed him once more.  "Walk with me?"

            Daphne nodded.  They walked in a companionable silence down Haymarket.  It took Daphne a few minutes to figure out they were not turning left for her flat, but continuing south across Pall Mall.  "Where are we going, Niles dear?"

            "St. James's Park, ladylove.  It's my favorite, you know that, even at night."

            They passed through the shadows of Waterloo Place and into the rustling darkness of the park.  Neither Niles nor Daphne spoke until they reached the small bandstand near the center.  When they stepped into it, Daphne finally turned and stared into Niles's face intently.  "I know something's horribly wrong, so don't pretend otherwise.  Please tell me what's bothering you so, darling."

            Niles slumped and sighed.  "Last week's raid.  It was beyond bad."

            "What happened?  No one got killed, did they?"

            "No, but I can barely make that statement.  We were shot up extremely badly on our way back from a raid over Frankfurt, and part of the crew was badly injured too—especially Dean.  The fact he took a nasty hit is eating me alive more than anything else—unless it's the fact my slip in concentration caused the whole bloody mess."  Niles stared at the dark mass of the nearby lake and would not look at Daphne.  "The plane was wallowing around in the air so badly that I was afraid we'd have to crash land.  I focused on keeping it in the air so much that I didn't see the ME-109 diving into our right flank as we got ready to land until it was too late.  Poor Dean got a nice load of shrapnel and broken glass in his right arm and face, including his eye, God help him."

            "Will he recover?"  Daphne whispered in horror.  She liked Dean a lot, and couldn't bear to think of him blind or mutilated.

            "The doctors think they can save the sight in his injured eye, but it's going to take several operations and a lot of time.  The worst part for me is not only did I get my best friend hurt, but that I'm also without my regular co-pilot for my next run in three days.  Considering where Bomber Command is choosing to send us, that doesn't increase our odds."

            "Where are you going?"  Daphne felt as though an iron band was squeezing her chest, her fear was so overwhelming.

            Niles was silent for a moment, and then faced her directly.  "A suicide bombing run on Kiel—that starts at dawn and goes all day."

            Daphne gasped.  "A raid on German navy headquarters in _daylight_!  Are your bloody generals wanting you dead?"

            "I guess so."  Niles swallowed hard and struggled to speak.  "Look, Daphne—that's why I needed to see you tonight.  Number twenty-four is coming up, and I think there's a good chance I may not survive . . ."

            Daphne clapped her fingers onto his mouth.  "Don't say it!  If you don't say it, you won't curse yourself and everything will be fine!  You've got to live, Niles darling, for me at least!  Don't you know how much I love you?"

            Niles pulled her fingers away and clasped her hands to his chest.  "I know that.  I love you, more than you know.  That's why we've got to talk about this, now."

            "Not tonight, for God's sake.  Give me just one more happy night, here in our magic wood.  I can't bear to talk about death, not now!  Please, please play with me for a little while and pretend there's no bloody war, no outside world, just us.  Please!"  Daphne gazed at him feverishly, the glitter of unshed tears hanging on her lashes like tiny raindrops.

            Niles hesitated.  "What do you want, my moon goddess?"

            "Dance with me!  I'll sing."

            He extended his arms slowly as Daphne stepped towards him, her chin up proudly.  As they began to waltz around the bandstand, Daphne sang softly.

                                                "I'll see you again, 

                                                Whenever spring breaks through again,

                                                Time may lie heavy between,

                                                But what has been,

                                                Is past forgetting . . ."

            Daphne paused to take a breath, only to have Niles surprise her once more as he took up the lyric.

                                                "I'll see you again, 

                                                Whenever spring breaks through again,

                                                Always I'll be by your side,

                                                No time or tide

                                                Can part us ever . . ."

            As they twirled to a stop, Daphne clung to Niles, her eyes filling.  "Do you really mean that, Niles?  Do you?"

            "Of course I do."  She could barely hear his whisper.  "I love you with my whole heart, body, and soul.  You're the only one for me in the whole wide world."

            "And I love you, always and forever," she whispered in reply as she kissed him.

            Their kiss was as intoxicating as ever, creating that sense of timelessness Daphne had learned to expect.  It seemed to last forever as it grew warmer, harder, more demanding.  Niles finally drew away with a groan and buried his face in Daphne's hair.  

            "What you do to me is amazing—you were a witch in a previous life, I'd be bound.  If we keep this up, you will provoke me into taking you here and now, you realize that, don't you, love?"  His voice was muffled.  

            "Maybe that's what I want."  Daphne lifted her eyes to Niles's, startled at her sudden boldness.  

            "What—_here_?" 

            "No, not here.  But we can go back to the flat, Annie's gone until tomorrow night.  

If you're right and the worst may happen, we need to do this.  I want you so badly I can taste it, and I can't bear the idea of something dreadful happening and never knowing what it's like with you—and no, you would never disappoint me, I love you.  Give me this night, this memory."  She paused, and said fearfully,  "Unless you think I'm being whorish?" 

            "You are anything and everything but that, my dearest ladylove."  Niles looked thoughtful, and finally allowed himself a wide smile.  "Very well. Your wish is my command.  Let's go and have our gaudy night."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Later that night, Daphne sat up in her bed and stretched like a lazy cat.  She turned and looked down tenderly at a sleeping Niles.  The moonlight angling across the bed shone on his face, making it boyish and sculpted at once.  She gently pushed a lock of blond hair off his forehead, marveling afresh at the raw passion the two of them had succeeded in generating together.  _He was so afraid of not being good enough—and then he takes me to heaven and back!  He still doesn't know himself very well.  _Daphne leaned forward and kissed him.

            "Hmmmm?" Niles's eyes opened and focused on the smiling face hanging above him.  He grinned and ran his hands though her auburn curls, making her look like a wild little girl.  "Hungry for more, my sweet?  Or are you merely interested in depriving me of sleep?"

            "Hungry, of course!  Did you really think I'd settle for just once?  Especially now that I've discovered how badly you've cheated me, making me wait this long."  She stretched out against him full length then, her skin on his, making them both tingle.

            "So I was the biggest fool in this sorry world.  You'll forgive me?"  She felt Niles's hands slide down her back and trace intricate patterns, leaving a burning trail wherever he touched.

            Daphne chuckled.  "Oh, I'll forgive you, all right—but only if you make love to me again."  The tip of her tongue began to circle his ear.

            He rolled her over then and kissed her deeply. "Always—because I love you beyond all rhyme or reason, my darling Daphne.  Keep the shadows away for just a little while longer."

* * * * * * * * * * *

            The next morning, Daphne slipped into a robe and began to cook breakfast while Niles got dressed.  As he walked into the small kitchen, it was hard for Daphne to believe that this neat, polished officer was the same man who had shared her bed the night before.

            He greeted her with a smile and lingering kiss, but then lapsed into a thoughtful silence as they ate.  Daphne, suddenly frightened at possible second thoughts on his part, asked hesitantly, "You're not regretting last night, are you, Niles?"

            "What?"  He jerked back to life.  "Good God, no!  I didn't mean to create that impression.  I just was trying to puzzle out if I had enough time to take care of a very important matter before I'm due back at Bassingborne.  I think I do, so I will be going out and will return within an hour.  I'd like to go on a walk with you when I come back, if you don't mind."

            "I'll put on my prettiest outfit," she replied laughingly. 

 

            Daphne hurried to get ready as soon as Niles left.   Curiosity consumed her.  _What was so important, and what in heaven's name is he up to anyway?_

            Niles returned by the end of the promised hour.  They left and walked in the crisp autumn air.  Daphne was overjoyed that Niles's mood had lightened considerably, enough to let him laugh and joke with her.  When their direction became apparent, she asked in surprise, "What, the park again?"

            "Yes, indeed.  You'll see why in a few minutes.  Come on, lazybones!  Don't you want to see your new present?"  

            "Course I do," she laughed.

            Niles led Daphne this time to the bridge over the lake.  They walked to the middle of it and turned to gaze at the white minarets of Whitehall, the ducks quacking underneath their feet.

            "The most beautiful view in London," Niles mused.  "I thought that years ago when I first came here, and I still think it today.  That's why I brought you here—it seems the only perfect place to ask you about something that has been on my mind for a long time."

            "And that is?" Daphne's heart began to pound.

            Niles reached out and took both her hands in his.  "First of all, I want you to understand that I'm not giving you this because I think I have to after last night.  You and I are above that kind of nonsense.  Last night did confirm something else, though, and that was how much I love you, and that I don't want to live without you by my side." He reached into his uniform pocket then, and drew out a small velvet-covered box embossed with the crest of Garrard, the royal jewelers.  "Open this, and tell me that I chose rightly."

            Daphne could barely open the box since her hands were shaking so much.  Inside sat an exquisite sapphire and pearl ring, glowing in the sunlight.  She lifted incredulous eyes.  "Niles, you aren't really—you're aren't saying that you want— "

            "I want to marry you, Daphne Moon.  Will you?"

            "Yes, dear God, yes!" Daphne flung herself into Niles's waiting arms.  He picked her up off her feet and twirled her around until they were both breathless.  As Daphne landed, she asked anxiously, "Your parents—they won't mind, will they?'

            "Don't start that foolishness again!  They'll love you quite as much as I do, I'm sure, and you're forgetting my brother's potential bride.  If they can accept her they will have absolutely no problems with you, sweetheart.  Chin up—that's my girl!"   

            "I am your girl, aren't I?" Daphne grinned.

            "Absolutely—which is why I have to ask one more thing."  His smile evaporated totally.  "Please don't stop me this time.  I want you to promise me that if the worst does happen to me, you won't mourn forever and maim your life.  Promise me you'll find someone else, someone who really deserves you, and keep going no matter what.  Remember that line from _Hamlet?  _'The readiness is all.'  I need this from you, so I can face what's coming without fear."

            "But you won't die—I won't let you!  You mustn't talk about it so, or it will happen, you must believe that!" Daphne insisted frantically.

            "Promise me!" Niles's pain-filled cry wrenched at her heart.  She buried her face against his chest.

            "I promise," she said softly.  _But I don't need to—I won't let you die, _she added silently.

* * * * * * * * * * *

            Daphne floated on the lightest of clouds for the next three days.  The news of her engagement to Niles was greeted warmly by everyone she knew. This was especially true of an excited Roz, who couldn't stop admiring Daphne's ring the Monday evening Daphne dropped by the Lamb & Flag.  Annie's initial envy on her return to town was quickly replaced by lavish praise for Daphne's success in bagging such a catch.        

            Even Mr. Eden shed his usual reserve when Daphne informed him of her engagement.  He insisted on breaking out a long-hoarded bottle of old claret and offering a sentimental toast to the future bride on Tuesday afternoon.

            As Mr. Eden carefully put the claret away, Daphne leaned forward and placed her glass at the edge of the desk, enjoying the taste of both the wine and her own happiness.  She leaned back into her chair again, prepared to speak—

            —and the ground beneath her feet suddenly seemed to vanish.

            Daphne grabbed the edge of the desk and gasped as her whole body and mind were submerged in an overwhelming wave of pain, panic, and sheer terror.  The only coherent thought in her brain was a shrieked name.

            _Niles!_

            She had no doubt that something was horribly, tragically wrong with Niles, even without any clear details.  She had learned the hard way over the years to trust her flashes of insight, her visions, and the sense of doom filling her now was beyond questioning.

            _Dear God in Heaven, I must go to him, right now—there's no time to waste, if I'm there maybe I can help him . . . _Daphne realized that Mr. Eden was staring at her with a concerned expression on his face.

            "Miss Moon, are you quite all right?  Are you ill?  You look very pale.  Please, if you're not feeling well, feel free to take the rest of the day off.  You should go home to bed."

            "T-thank you ever so much, Mr. Eden.  I-I think I'd better go," Daphne whispered, her head pounding. 

            How she made it out of the office and back to the flat was something she would never remember with any clarity.  She somehow managed to grab a few things, stuff them in a bag, and scribble a barely legible note for Annie once she got home.  She then stumbled to the nearest Tube stop and caught the train for Liverpool Street Station, tears pouring down her face, totally unaware of the pitying looks she was collecting from bystanders.

            Daphne climbed onto the Cambridge train like a sleepwalker, and then sat bolt upright for the next hour and a half.  Her whole focus was on the man she loved best in all the world.  Maybe if she prayed hard enough, her thoughts would reach Niles, and somehow protect him.  _Please God, let him live . . .I'll do anything, give him up, nurse him forever, sacrifice myself, just let him live, please, please . . . _

            She arrived in Cambridge totally exhausted and terrified.  Daphne walked out of the train station without any idea if she could get to Bassingborne, hoping against hope she could find a taxi.  As she began to walk down Wheeler Street, she was startled to hear her name shouted.

            "Daphne!  Daphne, it's Dean!  I've got to talk to you—stop!"

            Daphne stopped dead and began to cry from sheer relief.  To run into Dean of all people was a blessing she could not have foreseen.  _Thank God, he's the one man who can take me to Niles!_  As Dean ran up to her, Daphne swayed as she got her first good look at the young man.  Stunned, she could only stare at Dean in horror.

            She had expected the sling, the slashed-up cheek, and the eye patch.  What Daphne never would have dreamed was that Dean's normally sunny face could wear such an expression of utter grief and despair.  Her heart crumpled in her chest.  Her vision had been all too true—something had happened to Niles.  

            Dean demanded, "Daphne, why are you here in Cambridge?  Did one of the other guys call you from the base?"

            Daphne shook her head.  "No, I-I sensed something was wrong, I do that sometimes, so I came straight here to find a ride to the base.  Did I make a mistake?  Is he all right?"  She held her breath, praying the ax would not fall.

            Dean turned from her and stared off into the distance.  When he turned back to her, his good eye was full of tears.  "Oh, Daphne . . .you were right.  I don't know how you felt it, but Niles was hurt while he flew home last night—badly, God help us."

            "What—what happened?  Please, tell me the truth, I've got to know."  Daphne's pain-filled whisper was barely audible.

            Dean swallowed hard.  When he finally spoke, it was if the words were being dragged out from his mouth.  "They managed to find the target, but behind schedule because of fog cover.  Once they dumped their load, Niles started hightailing it for home because of the extra fuel he'd burned hunting around.  A covey of ME-109s saw him and gave chase.  Niles used every evasive maneuver in the book, and the tail gunner knocked down a couple.  But the others scored some hits, and the plane began to fly rough."  

            "He had to crash land?"  Daphne could hardly speak.

            Dean nodded slowly.  "In a field a few miles west of Bassingborne.  The plane caught on fire near the tail when they landed.  Niles could have gotten out clean through the cockpit window, but he ran back to try and pull Shaw out."

            Daphne felt her entire body turn to jelly.  "Oh my God—Niles has been _burned_? "  She couldn't keep the hysteria out of her voice then.

            Dean wept openly now.  "Yes . . .his oxygen mask kept his face from being fried, but the flying suit went up in flames.  The surviving men pulled him out as fast as they could and rolled the fire out, but the damage was done.  A village ambulance rushed him to the base hospital.  He's there right now, the doctors are doing everything they can, but he's delirious and keeps ripping his dressings off.  The doctors think some of the burns may have become infected because of that.  I came to Cambridge to get more morphine at the University Hospital; we were running low.  One of the doctors thinks he might pull through if he's knocked out completely.  Poor Tim died two hours ago, so they're desperate to save Niles.  Colonel Wray tried to stop me from coming because of my bad arm and eye, but I told him it was the least I could do for Niles, and he gave in. " Dean bowed his head, unable to speak further.

            A sobbing Daphne grabbed the lapels of Dean's uniform and fixed him with a piercing gaze.  "Dean, you've got to take me to him, please!  I know it's against the rules, but I must see him again if he's hurt that badly.  Please, please help me!"

            Dean smiled sadly.  "Of course I'll help you, Daphne, I know how much you two love each other, and . . .he's been calling for you nonstop when he's awake.  You think I give a damn about regulations after that?  Come on, the Jeep's over here."

            The two of them climbed into the vehicle silently after hurrying over.  As Dean barreled down the roads at a hellish pace, particularly for a one-armed driver, Daphne clutched the side of the Jeep and kept praying.  _Please God, let him live . . .I can nurse him, just let him live, don't take my bonny boy, anything but that, please . . ._

            They shot through the base gate and paused at the guard hut.  "Who's this?  Where's she going with you, Lt. Hansen?" demanded the young and nervous MP.

           Dean replied edgily, "This is Captain Crane's fiancée, Daphne Moon.  I'm taking her to see him at the hospital.  Believe me, I can vouch for her, so be good and don't argue with me, son." 

            The MP stared, then nodded and gave a salute.  "Yes, sir!"  He stepped back to let them pass.

            As the Jeep speeded up to the base hospital and skidded to a stop, Daphne scrambled from her seat and ran without waiting for Dean to stop.  She ignored Dean's cry of "Daphne, wait for me!"  As she burst through the doors, she saw the knot of doctors huddled around the bed at the end of a row.  She moved towards them, sure Niles was there, and caught the eye of the senior doctor present.  "Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?" he demanded furiously.

            Dean's muted voice came from behind her.  "It's Captain Crane's fiancée, sir.  She would like to see him if at all possible."

            The doctor's bulldog frown remained, but he stepped back away from the bed and nodded grudgingly.  "Only if you promise not to faint," he growled.

            "I promise."  More doctors stepped back as Daphne advanced to the side of the bed and finally looked down at the prostrate form of her lover.  It took every ounce of her self-control not to start screaming in horror.

            He lay there, her darling, in endless strips of gauze, wrapped like some grotesque mummy from the neck down.  Daphne could see a few burns had edged up onto the lower part of his face, but that the rest of his face thankfully remained untouched.  Her eyes slid down to his arms and hands, and widened at the sight of charred flesh glaring through the gaps in his bandages.  With a strangled sob, Daphne fell to her knees and clasped Niles's hand against her cheek.  

"Oh, Niles, please wake up, I'm here, it's Daphne."

Niles's eyes fluttered open slowly, as though it hurt him just to do it.  "Daphne?" he whispered.  "H-how are you here, ladylove?  Kept calling . . . for you . . . kept hoping to see you again."

Daphne forced a smile despite her tears.  "You got your wish now, I'm here and I can help take care of you."

A spasm of pain crossed Niles's face.  "No . . . not good.  Don't want to be a burden to you—deserve better."

"Now you're being foolish," Daphne said bravely.  She leaned over him and gently stroked his hair.  "I'm going to be a nurse after all, so it's practice."

"My love . . . can't make it.  I'm sorry—but it's better this way, quick death . . . always better.  Can't live like this . . . too much pain!  Forgive me . . . give me a kiss?"

Daphne kissed him desperately.  "You mustn't give up!  You've got to live for me, Niles darling, you can't leave me now!"  She clung to his hand fiercely, trying to transmit her life force to the weakening Niles.

"Too late . . ." She could barely hear him now.  "Can go now . . . saw you again.  Remember . . .your promise.  Love you, always . . .I promise . . . I'll see you . . .again."  His breaths grew harsher.  "Somehow . . . because I love you."  A dreadful rattle sounded in his throat.  He struggled for more breath, and then his chest stilled completely under Daphne's disbelieving gaze.

"NO!"  Daphne flung herself onto Niles's unmoving body and shook his shoulders.  "No, you can't die, I love you too much!  Don't leave me alone, please, there'll never be anybody else, oh, Niles, come back!"  She pushed away Dean's hands as he tried to pull her up and hugged Niles even more tightly.  "I love you, no, Niles, no, not this, no . . ."  Her tears were pouring out now unchecked.  "I'll do anything, just stay—Niles, don't die, no, no, NO . . ."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  

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* * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

            "NO!!"

            Daphne sat bolt upright in the bed as the scream was torn from her throat.  She seized her legs and put her head on her knees as the room rocked and she struggled to regain her bearings.  She shivered, realizing she was soaked in sweat.

            She slowly lifted her head and looked around the room.  Yes, it was Irene's guest room, and there, on the nightstand, blinked a small clock.  It showed the time—6:45 a.m., and then the date—August 28, 2001.

            Not 1944.  Not this other life, vision, dream . . . and Niles was alive, she knew that.

            Daphne dabbled at her tear-soaked eyes with the edge of the sheet as her mind raced.  _What the hell was that?  A complicated dream me mind came up with because I was thinking about the war?  Or is it something else entirely---maybe a glimpse of a past life Niles and I share?  I feel like I've lived another whole life in one night, for God's sake!_

            She climbed out of the rumpled bed and crossed to the window.  She stared at the first faint streaks of dawn on the horizon as she wrapped her arms around herself and tried to sort through the chaotic memories.

            _Niles would tell me right away that it was nothing but a complex dream me brain cooked up to deal with me stress and worry.  He might be right at that.  But I can't really believe that—there were too many details, too many things I know nothing about.  Is it really so crazy, the idea he and I were together before?  It would explain so much.  He fell for me at first sight, and even though I never could admit it for a long time, I was attracted to him from the beginning too.  If we never got to finish our previous life, that was why we met—we still had to close the circle.  That's probably why it's always felt so absolutely right with Niles._

            Daphne slumped and rested her forehead against a windowpane as she continued to tease out her puzzled thoughts.  _Maybe it doesn't really matter if it's a vision or a dream, because it all points to the same thing._  She allowed another tear to trickle down her cheek and then set her mouth in a stubborn line as she brought her head up.

            _He's the one, he's always been the one, just as I'm the one for him.  I never should have doubted that for a second—may God forgive me for having done.  Me heart told me the truth tonight.  He could never go back to Mel no matter what happens, not after what we've felt and shared.  How could I think otherwise?  And maybe the whole thing was to remind me how much worse things might be.  We're not in the middle of a war, we don't have to be afraid that one of us is sure to die tomorrow.  Compared to that, our troubles aren't so bad.  We've survived everything so far, are halfway to getting rid of them, and we've had more time together than we could have.  Why in heaven's name am I complaining?  Even if the worst happens, and things don't work out, we've been ten times happier with each other than we ever were before._

            Daphne knew, with sudden, sharp clarity, that as much as she loved Irene, her home was not the right place to meet Niles.  Her vision had told her where she and Niles should go--must go—in order to fulfill the path fate had laid out for them.  She pivoted around and caught sight of the piece of paper on the nightstand.  Snatching it up, she grabbed the phone and punched in the number she'd scribbled down eight days ago.

            "Hazlitt's.  How I may I help you?"  The young man sounded both bored and superior.

            "Is Dr. Niles Crane available?  I understand he's staying there.  Please, may I speak to him?"

            "Dr. Crane's plane was late and he did not arrive until midnight.  He asked us to take messages until eight o'clock."  The man paused, his stiffness softening a touch.  "You wouldn't happen to be Miss Moon, by chance?"

            "Yes, yes I am.  Did he have a message for me?"

            "He wanted you to know he will be stopping by at one-thirty this afternoon."

            "Well, _I_ have a message for him.  Tell him to meet me in St. James's Park at two o'clock, at the Duck Island bridge.  Can you tell him that, please?"

            "Yes, Miss Moon.  Two o'clock at the park bridge.  I'll make sure Dr. Crane gets the message as soon as he wakes up."

            "Thank you!"  Daphne hung up as a surge of pure joy flooded her body and heart.  "I'm going to see him again!" she said out loud.  She looked at the clock again.  Seven o'clock—she needed to have some breakfast and get ready to go out.  She would have more than enough time to run to Liberty's and buy that dress she'd been longing after for several days.  Made of pleated chiffon and covered with roses, she was certain it would make her look lovely, and that was what she wanted.  Daphne pulled on her robe and jerked open the door, determined to set off on her quest quickly.  

* * * * * * * * * * *

               

            Later that afternoon, the sun gleamed off the water of the lake as St. James's Park echoed to the music of a military band playing and the shouts of boys floating their toy boats.  Birds flocked on Duck Island, searching for fresh food now that yesterday's rainstorm had vanished.  One small duck, greedy for bread crumbs, paddled over to the nearby bridge and quacked enquiringly at the elegantly suited man leaning against the rail.

            "No, you silly bird, I haven't got anything!  Go away, please, I have enough things to worry about without wondering what you might do to my shoes and suit."  The duck quacked again, this time succeeding in sounding annoyed, and turned tail to return to his flock.

            Niles Crane permitted himself a small chuckle, but sighed once more as he saw his reflection in the water again.  _What is Daphne up to, having me meet her here instead of her friend's house?  Is there something she wants to tell me without anybody else present?  I have to explain why I haven't been calling her the past few weeks, I know that, but she couldn't be so angry that she's ending it? _Niles chewed his lip thoughtfully. _Of course, I wouldn't blame her if she realizes taking care of a high-strung thoroughbred like me isn't what she wants to do for the rest of her life.  Me, the psychiatrist who can't repair his own neurotic behavior. _

            Niles became increasingly maudlin.  _After all, as transcendental as the sex was that last night, Daphne must see I'm no superman in that department.  With my luck, she's found some English stud she prefers now—an old boyfriend like Clive, no doubt.  I always knew it was too perfect to last forever.  _He shifted and heard the papers in his suit jacket crackle.  _ I pray that I'm wrong, that I'm just being insecure—because this is not the moment for us to give up, not with the light at the end of the tunnel visible . . ._

            "Niles!  Niles, I'm here!"

            Niles felt the familiar lift at the sound of that beloved voice.  He whirled and watched Daphne running up the path to the bridge where he stood.  She stopped and twirled around, making her dress float around her in a mass of roses.  "Do you like my new dress?  I bought it and these fancy shoes specially for today!"

            "Of course I like it!  It makes you look like the freshest of English roses, my love."  His eyes roamed over the shining hair, the soft skin and full lips he'd always adored, and held his arms out.  "Now come here, Daphne, and kiss me, because it's been four months and there's not been a single day I haven't missed you!"

            She rushed him then, wrapping her arms around him as she buried her mouth on his just as she had that night on the balcony.  When they finally stopped, Niles grabbed at the railing to brace himself.  "Lord, woman, what you do to me," he whispered, feeling the blood roar in his ears.

            Daphne was gazing at him now with a mixture of expectancy and wariness.  "Is that really true?  I know it must be, but you haven't called for the past three weeks.  Is anything wrong, or do you need to tell me something else entirely?"  She paused, her concern obvious.  "I thought 'til this morning that maybe you—changed your mind . . ."   

            Niles was stunned.  "Christ, Daphne, you didn't really believe that, did you?  I wanted this to be a little bit of a surprise, but I told Frasier to clue you in at least a small bit about what was going on.  You don't know anything?"

            Daphne shook her head.  "I'm sorry, I don't—and I've been terribly worried 'til today."

            Niles sighed gustily.  "I swear, Frasier can be an absolute jackass on occasion, he never listens to me!"  He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a sheaf of papers.  He handled them to Daphne with the prideful air of a boy showing off a perfect report card.  "Here, read these—it's easier than me trying to explain everything at once."      

            Daphne slowly unfolded them.  The top sheet was an INS order stating that the deportation of Daphne Moon was hereby revoked and that said party was eligible to return to the United States.  Daphne gave Niles a puzzled look.  "Yes, this means I can come back to Seattle, I knew that, but I still don't understand."

            "Read farther—it's the other set of papers that truly matter, for they're my order of release."  Niles grinned in excitement.

            Daphne lifted the single unattached page and looked down at the top page of a stapled bundle of papers.  There, at the head, was the bold-faced caption:  **Judgment Entry and Decree of Divorce.  **She gasped as the full import sunk in.  

            "Oh, my God, Niles, it's done, finished, over with?  Mel is gone for real?"

            "Yes, she is."  Niles beamed at her.  "We went into trial eleven days ago—that why I couldn't call you.  My attorney insisted I needed deniability on the stand if Mel's attorney raised the issue of my current level of contact with you.  She saw me off at the airport with Dad and Frasier, by the way, and sends her apologies about the temporary phone embargo.  She hopes you forgive her.  I certainly do, because she put up a tough fight.  Mel and her pit bull realized three days into it that they couldn't do any better than our original offer, so Mel caved and settled.  I threw her a nominal bone, but otherwise my money and property are intact."  His grin widened further.  "Are you happy?"

            Daphne hugged Niles tightly.  "Yes!  And to think I was conjuring up all these demons to torture myself!"

            "'Here's our own hands against our hearts,'" quoted Niles mischievously, and added, "Much ado about nothing, indeed!"  He paused, asking, "You said something a bit strange—that you were worried until this morning as to what was happening.  What occurred this morning to reassure you?"

            Daphne took a deep breath.  "I had this dream all last night—it was so real, it was amazing . . ." She trailed off and stared at the expectant Niles.  _No, he might not understand—and this isn't the right time or place.  _She said slowly, "The details aren't important.  What is important is that by the end, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that we're meant to be together.  I was stupid to ever worry in the first place, and I'm sorry."

            "Well, I was pretty worried too, I'm no prize in some ways, and thought you might have had enough of dealing with me.  I'm sorry as well.  I must say, though, that you are a wee bit psychic after all!  How did you know this was my favorite view in London?"

            "I—made a good guess," Daphne said quietly.  "Why? Is it important?"

            "Yes, because this is the ideal location for what I want to do now," said Niles jauntily.  He knelt down on one knee and pulled the small velvet box from another pocket.  "My whole reason for my New York layover—only Tiffany's best for you, love.  This, needless to say, is your real surprise." He flipped the lid up and Daphne gasped at the beautiful sapphire and pearl ring perched inside, as memories from her dream filled her mind.  Niles slipped the ring onto her finger and took both her hands in his.  His voice was more than a little shaky as he spoke.

            "Daphne, my goddess, my love from now until the end of time, will you marry me?  I can promise you only that I will always love you with my whole heart, body and soul, and that life will never be boring with me."  Niles gazed up at her, his heart in his eyes as he waited for her answer.

            Daphne held her breath.  _I have done this before, been here before . . ._ All other thoughts disappeared as she sang out, "Yes, yes, and yes again, Niles Crane!  I love you!"  She kissed him even more passionately than before, and felt time slow to a standstill.  _Yes, you're the one . . ._

            The two of them finally came up for air laughingly.  Niles rested his forehead against Daphne's.  "What now?  I want to meet your friend and her family, and thank them for taking care of you.  We're free as birds now too, after all, so we can stay here for a while and enjoy London to our heart's content.  There's the theaters, the shops, the sights, the parks.  We could transfer ourselves to a luxury hotel like the Savoy and celebrate my continued possession of my money." He giggled nervously.  "I'm even willing to take you to the Notting Hill carnival and be the world's ultimate white man—plenty of laughs right there.  What's your pleasure, my love?"

            "It all sounds wonderful, and I would like to spend some time here with you, it can be our little vacation.  But . . ." Daphne gave Niles a smile of pure bliss, cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him again.  She whispered, "But then, I want to go home—with you."     

* * * * * * * * * * *

            Three weeks later, Daphne gazed out a rain-glazed window once more.  This time, however, the rain did not dampen her mood in the least.  The leaves gleamed dark green, and in the distance she could see the distinctive silhouette of the Space Needle.  She hummed to herself in contentment.  _Home_, she thought.  _I'm home where I belong_.  Without thinking, she said out loud, "There's no place like home."  She heard laughter behind her.

            "Especially when home is the Emerald City, right, my love?"  Niles walked up behind her and hugged her, letting his hands cup her breasts lightly through her overalls.  He kissed the nape of her neck and murmured, "I'm certainly glad you're home, Dorothy, can't you tell?"

            Daphne giggled and kissed the tip of his nose.  "I was sure of that—this is the first day you've let me have any time to clean and make room for my things.  I thought maybe I'd turned into your harem slave.  Now be good, and let me finish clearing out this closet."

            "Yes, dear.  I'll go see if Frasier and Dad have any more boxes to bring up."

            He practically danced back out the door.  Daphne watched him go with amusement, and then turned her attention to the closet she was trying to empty.  They had decided on the way home that if Daphne was moving into the Montana with Niles, the dressing room would need to be partially renovated.  She climbed carefully to the top of the small ladder Martin had carried up and edged around to clear off the top shelf.  As Daphne saw what sat there, she gasped in disbelief and nearly fell off the ladder.

            The dragon perched near the edge like a small gargoyle as the crystal clutched in its paws seemed to fragment the light into a thousand tiny rainbows.  Daphne's hands shook as she lifted the creature down and held it.  Her brain felt like it was shattering into tiny pieces as well.    

            _It was Niles all along—me first vision was telling me so and I didn't know—oh, Niles, we've wasted so much time, you're the one, you are . . ._

            Daphne cradled the little dragon as though it was her own baby as she came back down the ladder and sat down on the floor, totally legless.  She hugged it to her chest and said, "You get a place of honor next to the bed."  She looked back up at the shelf, marveling at the small miracle she had just been granted.

            She saw the box then, old, ragged, tied shut with a string browned by age.  There was something written on one end.  It appeared to be a woman's handwriting.  The pencil had faded, but was still legible.  It stated, "Ted's things—October 30, 1944."

            Daphne felt every hair on the back of her neck stand on end.  _No, this can't be real, it can't be happening—another vision is true?_  She climbed the ladder once more and carried the fragile box down.  As she put it on the floor and untied the string, her heart began to pound erratically.  

            She lifted the lid with the greatest of care and peered inside.  There were news clippings from the war, and bundles of letters tied together with ribbons, some postmarked from England.  She opened two small hinged cases and discovered a Purple Heart and Silver Star medal respectively.  One newspaper headline read, "Local Hero Killed on Bombing Run."  _Oh my God!_  Daphne fought off the urge to faint, and kept digging through the box's contents.  When she found the photo, she pulled it out and could only stare in stupefied shock.

            The man was dressed in a pilot's uniform, with tie and wings pinned to his lapel.  His hair was darker, and there was no cleft in his chin, but otherwise he could have been Niles's twin.  Even with the sepia tone of the picture, she could see his eyes were the same shade of brilliant blue.  Daphne felt the room begin to spin around her.  _What is going on?  Am I mad, or in another world?_

            "Hey, Daphne, what did you find?"

            Daphne shook her head to clear it as Niles knelt beside her.  "I wasn't trying to be nosy," she said timidly, "but I found this on the shelf and opened it—I'm curious about the war, and you, I guess.  Who was this man, Niles?  He looks just like you, for God's sake!"

            Niles took the photo from Daphne's nerveless fingers.  "Why, that's my great-uncle Ted!  I had forgotten I put this box up there.  He was Dad's uncle and Aunt Louise's brother, so you can see I don't actually get all my qualities from Mother's family, in spite of what Dad says!  Dad barely remembers him, because Uncle Ted died in the war.  He was a bomber pilot based in England, and got killed on a bombing raid in the autumn of '44.  I used to look at his picture when I was little and pretend I was a brave pilot too—that's why Dad gave me his things."  Niles smiled at a frozen, incredulous Daphne.  "The family story always was that he was in love with some young Englishwoman, and would have married her if he had lived."  He kissed Daphne on the forehead.  "I suppose loving Englishwomen is the outstanding trait I inherited for certain, don't you think?"  He laughed and started to get up.

            Daphne felt as though she was waking from an endless and eternal spell.  She leaned forward and touched Niles's arm.

            "Niles, about my dream that night in London . . ." 

_I'll see you again_

_I'll live each moment through again,_

_Time has lain heavy between,_

_But what has been _

_Will leave me never._

_Your dear memory_

_Throughout my life has guided me,_

_Though my world may go awry,_

_Though the years my tears may dry,_

_I shall love you 'til I die,_

_Goodbye! _

* * * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * * *

                Here ends my rather somber, and certainly bittersweet, valentine to the Niles/Daphne romance, the WWII generation, and perhaps to England itself.  Please e-mail any comments or critiques to rlh_na@hotmail.com.  I would like to thank all my fellow CN list members who took the time to read, edit, and comment on various drafts, particularly Anne Troya, Val McCaffery, Renee Venezia, and Eve Dutton.  A special thanks to Kelly Dean Hansen and Tim Shaw for allowing me to use their names--and something of themselves--in this story.

                It seems excessive to attach anything resembling a bibliography to my little tale, but there is one source I used from which I would like to quote.  The last paragraph of David Reynolds' _Rich Relations:  The American Occupation of Britain, 1942-1945 _(Random House, 1995) reads as follows:

                                February 1993.  Mid-winter hangs heavy on Madingley Cemetery.

                Looking up the hill, white crosses (and occasional Stars of David) blur into

                grey mist and frosted grass.  Yet the eye is caught by a floral tribute against 

one of the crosses—an anniversary remembrance from a British woman for 

a young American flyer who was killed in February 1944.  Yellow and deep 

red it stands, at once memorial to one man and symbol of the GIs and the 

British in their wartime moment—a splash of colour in a bleached landscape, 

an irregular shape amid the strict geometry, an exclamation of life to punctuate 

the sentence of death.  And on it a note:

                                                All my love

                                                     As Always.

                                                And thank you, Michael.

                                                                Mary.

It is this spirit and feeling I have tried very hard to infuse throughout this story.  I hope I have succeeded, at least a little.

                                                                                                Regina 


End file.
